The Bandit Hunter
by lyredenfers
Summary: [Oneshot] All in a day's work for Owen of Jesslaw: the biggest, baddest bandit hunter in all the west!


                It's a clear, warm day in Tortall and Sir Owen of Jesslaw is sitting under a willow tree while his faithful mare, Happy, grazes beside him. The air smells of late spring, and birds chirp contentedly. Owen sits, reading in a calm reverie, until a scream pierces the air. Happy's ears prick forward; Owen jumps up, startled. The knight and horse look at one another… they have a job to do.

                Owen mounts his horse and together, they race towards the screams. A young girl, fetching water from the stream near her parents' farm has been surrounded by a group of brawny looking men. 

                "Aha!" says Owen, "just as I thought, bandits!" Happy whinnies in agreement.  Now, he speaks to the bandits, "leave that lady alone!"

                "So says who?" snarls one, whom Owen thinks may be the ringleader. "She's no lady, jus' a miserable wench, no better than she aught tah be."

                "So says Sir Owen of Jesslaw, leave the lady alone."

                One bandit gasps at Owen's title, "Ren, I've heard of that'un knight…. they call him the bandit hunter…." the young, scruffy bandit shivers in fear.

                The ringleader, Ren,  speaks again.  "What's he gunna do to us, eh? Theres twelve of us to the 'un ah him."

                "Ah, " says Owen, "ah. _Never_ underestimate me, _or_ my horse." For a moment, the knight sits tall in his saddle, his profile outlined by the clear blue sky. Then, he plunges into battle, wild and strong;  four men descend on him. He guts two with his sword before they have time to think, and fends off the other two with his shield. Two more men come in and he urges Happy on, towards the victim girl. He wounds two men, and Happy tramples another.

                But alas, Ren is making his escape on horseback, surrounded by six of his companions. Owen sees that the girls is riding in front of Ren, her hands tied.  He throws his shield at the remaining bandit nearby, knocking the man down. Happy gallops after men taking flight, her master crouching at her mane. Then, he slows her to a smooth canter and draws his longbow. Balancing with his knees, the knight takes careful aim, picks off two men and slows another to fall behind the pack. 

                The distance between the bandits and the knight grows, and Owen forces Happy to a gallop once again. Drawing even with the closest two of the pack, Owen knocks them from behind with the flat of his sword. Two remain, one of them the leader and captive. Drawing even with the non-leader, the knight shifts from his saddle and knocks himself into the bandit, forcing the man from his saddle. He stumbles, and falls behind.

                Ren looks at Owen, Owen looks at the girl. "My lady, are you alright?" 

                The girl is pale, and her fingers clutch Ren's horse's mane tightly, her knuckles white. A small moan escapes her mouth. Ren draws his knife in one hand, the other on his reins. The hand with the knife is aimed at the close knight. Owen grabs the man's slashing wrist, and uses a swift twist, that his former knight master,  Lord Wyldon, had taught him to send the man flying off his horse. 

                Ren is knocked to the ground in a violent fall, and shakes his fist at Owen from the dust in which he lies. The knight grabs the reins of the horse, and slows both Happy and the horse of the shrieking girl, down to a walk.

                "My Lord," whispers the girl, "you saved my life."

                Owen blushes, and the girls swoons to a faint. The knight moves the girl off Ren's horse, onto Happy. He hits the unknown horse's rear flanks, and sends it off into the distance. His goal is to save his country from bandits; he doesn't need their horses or possessions to satisfy himself. Remounting Happy, he brings the girl back to her parents' farm, at a walking pace. It's dark by the time that she regains consciousness, as he draws up to the property's fence. Owen dismounts, and offers a hand to help the girl down. Her eyes are shining, the moonlight shining down on the pair of them- the three of them he notices ruefully, thinking of his beloved mare.

                "How can I ever repay you Sir Owen?" 

                Owen blushes. "Just tell me your name," he says.

                "Leila," she says and smiles, a beautiful smile.

                _"Leila,"_ he echoes.

                Leila's  parents and younger siblings come rushing outside, and the girl runs into her parents' arms. Leila's mother is crying joyfully.

                Owen watches the scene for a moment, and before the family has time to thank him, he and Happy turn and ride off into the night. _All in day's work for Owen of Jesslaw, the biggest, baddest bandit hunter in all the west…_

"JESSLAW," yell's a harsh, voice. "What in Mirthos's name are you doing? I did not take you as a squire so that you might sit around and daydream, at my expense."

                The starry night sky fades into Lord Wyldon's angry face and Owen is left in dull reality. "Sorry My Lord," he says meekly. Sixteen year old Owen gets jumps down from his perch beside Happy's stall, and brushes the hay off of his breeches.

                Lord Wyldon glares at his squire, "I want _all_ of these horses watered, fed, and groomed by the time I return. Understood Jesslaw?"

                Owen barely contains a sigh. He was enjoying that daydream, it was a jolly victory, better than usual. Besides, Leila was _very_ pretty. Instead of letting the sigh escape, he replies, "Yes my lord, very good my lord, right away my lord."

                Lord Wyldon squints at his charge, deciding if Owen  is being impertinent. Satisfied that he's not, Cavall turns on his heels and leaves his stables. 

                Owen of Jesslaw sticks his tongue out at his knight master's retreating back and gives Happy a fond pat. Then, he gets to work.

~*~ 

He he he, so whaddya think? 

It's my tribute to Owen. He's so great, isn't he?

oh and yes, *disclaimer*… I own nothing…. but Owen's soul…. *Evil laughter*. Owen, biggest baddest bandit hunter in all of the west bears down on Lyre, waving his sword, and Happy looking menacing. *sigh* Fine, Owen, you can have your soul back. *pouts*.

~Lyre~


End file.
